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For the first 14 years of my life, I was not a music fan.
In that time, I only experienced the joy of music from other media, like video games and television.
However, at my disposal was a DVD of music videos by Weird Al Yankovic. I was lucky that he was so funny, or I wouldn't have put it on as much as I did. Anyway, by listening to him, he accidentally indoctrinated me into a dozen different genres of music, which expanded my taste to an eccentric group of popular music — meanwhile, soundtracks for the games Guitar Hero 2 and Tony Hawk's Underground 2 also gave me decent exposure to a lot of "alternative" music.
Most importantly, film and television helped me understand the emotional intent of certain sounds and structures. Like when a thriller's score made droney or dissonant sounds in a scene of anticipation, I would remember that association of intent, I would realize that a drone isn't just some long boring note, it's supposed to cue suspense, meditation, or anxiety. I would associate sad, slow songs with a cinematic scene like a traumatized person staring out a window, eyes wet from their troubles and worries. Faster songs associated with passion, intensity, or action, like a sports montage of a champion fighting through obstacles they'd finally overcome. By imagining a cinematic counterpart in my head, listening to music became a much more vivid experience over time.
I also understand that most of the time, and for most people, music is at best a type of air freshener. It's assumed that music's purpose is to give a passive and pleasant atmosphere. Unfortunately, this is inherently unfair to the music that will affect you the most with your attention. The common attitude is that if music is ever too distracting or unfamiliar, that mental challenge to work through that confusion is too much effort, so the average listener gravitates to what's meant to just fill the air while they focus on something else. This was my attitude for the most part until I found the Spongebob Squarepants novelty album The Best Day Ever at age 9. An album poised as a transmissions from radio show in Bikini Bottom punctuated with intros and interludes of DJ banter, fake ads, and interviews between every song. It was my first encounter to a "concept album," a program of songs with thematic intent, sequenced with purpose, rather than thrown together like a reckless compilation. I suddenly realized that albums can be something more than just a playlist — it could be intellectual, creative, and exciting.
Aside from Yankovic, my first favorite musician was Johnny Cash. In that time I had never been so drawn to a singer's presence. His low baritone could croon and boom at once, a "man's man" kinda voice that sang of hardship and sorrow, like a gothic John Wayne. I learned how singing lyrics can be lot like an actor reciting a script — the humanity of a performer adding to the provocation of a song's narrative. Furthermore, showing me how songwriters exploit emotional cues from music to enhance the movements of its stories: the swell of orchestral strings can make a lyrics ring with more resonance than if they had been read to yourself in silence.
I was around 10 or 11 when I inherited my dad's old mp3 player loaded with the Beatles' greatest hits from 1962-65. I still remember the first day I used it, the same time I learned the value of working with music plugged in. It was autumn and I was raking leaves. It was cold and dirty, and worse, the air was stirring an attack of allergies at my throat and my nose, so I was locked in for some misery. But instead I spent the afternoon absolutely star-struck. I was experiencing Beatlemania, and my ideal of musicians changed for the better (and also for the worse, probably, because then I never shut up about music). A band had finally conquered my senses. I couldn't just listen to them, I had to look up interviews, watch their films, and go out of my way to learn about them. They weren't just musicians, they were inspirations. Artists whose personalities evolved and curiosity expanded into new territories over their active years. They were my first sample of how rewarding it could be to obsess over music, and teach me how pleasurable it can be to learn about musicians more deeply.
I enjoyed looking up journals and web articles that validated my love of the band. By high school I was a devout reader of Rolling Stone magazine, whose list of the 500 Best Albums of All Time pointed me to more musicians to consume and scrutinize. They would then point me to Bob Dylan. My dad had said Dylan had a grating voice, but it also had "character." I could not listen to a single song without cringing against his intense, obnoxious, and untrained moaning. However, his lyrics struck me. In this time I had taken a special interest in creative writing, so I noticed a rather playful eccentricity in his wording and vocabulary. The song that busted my bias against his voice forever was Positively 4th Street. The melody, stylized beyond a combination of folk, garage-rock, and blue-eyed soul, casts a long-winded recitation against this vindictive portrait of a lousy friend. Not some grandiose bank robbery or murder ballad, just an instance of fake friendship he could do without from day to day, which I identified with supremely. Dylan's vocals are bitter, as if the song makes up all the words he bottles up every time this person approached him. Positively 4th Street offered more than a jangly rhythm and hollering melody, it depicted a moment as emotionally complex as real life, and in a disarmingly honest way, so unflattering to the character of Dylan, showing himself as a spiteful person — which is also utterly relatable. Whether you would agree with platforming these feelings or not, Dylan had made a cathartic exhibit of an otherwise unpleasant aspect of human life. He had turned his suffering into a piece of art which had reached me across decades of time and miles of space to connect with me in a way that I hadn't expected, which is one of the best experiences art can offer beyond just entertainment.
From this point on, I distrusted any negative impressions I had with things unless I gave myself time to digest them. Had I followed my instinct to turn away from Dylan's work because of his voice, I would have missed the sincerity born from its ugliness. Exploiting the discomfort in the unfamiliar stimulates the mind. To be "weird" is the essence of tapping into something that is unfamiliar, or at least what hasn't been homogenized to the point where it's dull to the senses. This virtue prepared me for the experimental and avant-garde, because from thereon, every time some media upset me, I'd be fascinated rather than disgusted. I re-examineed what confused or frustrated me. It sounds like work, but it didn't feel like it to me, since I found the effort to be ten times as rewarding. Not saying that completely frustrating or confusing music is great, but it is worth reflection just to see if the confusing qualities are actually nuances to something real, but uncommon.
As my experiences with music grew and grew, I started to get so insistent with my judgement that I pursued essay writing and criticism about different media until it culminated with this site.
Beyond these pursuits though, I have also managed to produce a hefty amount of home demos for my own creative output, as well as videos discussing my love of music and its importance to be understood. Hopefully you will find something new that you like on this website, and don't take my criticisms too seriously. It's just opinions after all, so nobody should really care, right?
Instruments I Play (badly)
Vocals - croon or new wave/nervous punk style
Guitar - rock or post-rock style
Bass guitar - post-punk grooves
Piano - basic chords
Synthesizer - gooey bleeps or droning pad sounds
Recording/Production/Programming in FL Studio
**Beginning to Learn** Saxophone
Artists I Have Seen Live (headliners only)
100 Gecs (2023) *
Acid Mothers Temple (2017, 2018) ***
Advance Base / Casiotone for the Painfully Alone (2018) *
Anamanaguchi (Scott Pilgrim tour, 2022) ****
Animal Collective (2022) *
Billie Eilish (2024) **
Black Flag w/ Mike Vallely (2023) **
Bob Dylan (2016, 2022) *
Brian Jonestown Massacre (2022) *
Built to Spill (2019) *
Chat Pile (2024) **
Chrome (2018) *
Cure (2023) *
Danny Brown (2023) *
Death Grips (2017) ***
Deftones (2025) *
Dinosaur Jr (2016) *
Dweezil Zappa (2016) **
Fear Factory (2016) **
Flaming Lips (Bubble Concert, 2021) **
Flipper w/ David Yow (2019) **
Gang of Four w/ Dave Pajo (2022) ***
Gojira (2016) *
Hank Wood & the Hammerheads (2018) *
Jesus Lizard (2024) ***
Joan Jett (2021) *
Jon Spencer (2019) **
Jpegmafia (2021, 2023) ***
Kikagaku Moyo (2022) **
Kiss (2020) ****
Lemonheads (2024) *
Lingua Ignota (2022) **
Liz Phair (2018) *
Lydia Lunch (2022) *
Machine Girl (2023) *
Magnetic Fields (2023) **
Mars Volta (2025) **
Martin Rev (2022) **
Melvins (2025) *
Mercury Rev (2022) **
Meshuggah (2022) *
Ministry (2017) **
Mr. Bungle (2024) *
Napalm Death (2025) **
Neil Young (2015) ***
Nick Cave (2018) ***
Nicolas Jaar (2019) *
Nine Inch Nails (2014) **
Panchiko (2024) *
Paul McCartney (2014) **
Primus (2024, 2025) ***
Residents (2016) **
Ringo Deathstarr (2016) *
Rolling Stones (2019) ***
Roxy Music (2022) **
Sanctus Real (2006) *
Sarah McLachlan (2018) *
Shonen Knife (2018) *
Skinny Puppy (2023) ***
Slowdive (2018) *
Soul Coughing (2025) **
Soundgarden (2014) **
Squid (2024) *
St Vincent (2022) ***
Steely Dan (2014) *
Stereolab (2019) **
Swans (2016) ***
Tortoise (2025) **
Ty Segall (2025) *
Unsane (2023) ***
Unwound (2023) **
Vampire Weekend (2024) ***
Weird Al Yankovic (2007) ****
Wilco (2025) **
X (2024) *
Xiu Xiu (2019) ***
ZZ Top (2024) *
Asterisks rate my experience at each event, * being average, ** being good, and *** being outstanding
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